


Sin of Inheritance

by Demenscous



Category: Original Work
Genre: And I Mean Slow Burn, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Fiction, Slow Burn, Violence, and attempt it too, because im not putting tags, but this is a story, if you so want to, original world building, please do not repost or modify in any way, theres lots of different terminology, this is just for any of my followers to read, where the two characters literally want to kill each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenscous/pseuds/Demenscous
Summary: For a crown, it was hideous.—Normalcy is a temporary thing, and when Vera finds herself in a foreign place, surrounded by high society strangers and a man scathed by secrets of his own, assigned to keep guard of her at all times, it’s simply a trickling hourglass until it all finally breaks.Whether he’s there to protect Vera from others or to protect others from her is a question she has yet to find out.So, who will break first?Her or them?
Comments: 78
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who were subscribed when this was an Iwa fic, I've decided to change it back to the original after some thought and help from others, if you do decide to continue reading this, i hope you enjoy :)

For a crown, it was hideous. 

A tangle of gold, diamonds, and oversized rubies the color of spilt blood; the points too sharp, the metal too bright. It was a façade of extravagance, to use the most expensive materials and create such a repulsive thing. Why anyone would wish to wear it was beyond her.

“Something wrong with it?” Her mother called across the forge, aggressively scrubbing soot from her hands as tendrils of hair fell from her neat bun.

There were no flaws in it, of course, her mother was well known for her gifted power in metallurgy and weapons-making across the country, it was just… 

“It’s kind of…ugly.” Vera paused, running her fingers across the detailing, “Why would the princess want something that looks like _this_?”

Her mother turned around, using a clean rag to dry her rough hands, and walked to where Vera was standing, “I don’t know Ver, it’s not my place to ask. I was given explicit instructions and I followed them because that’s my job.” She had now taken the rag to begin wiping her soot-smudged face, “Besides, it was what _Her_ _Highness_ wanted.”

Vera huffed a laugh and handed her mother the freshly forged crown, still slightly warm to the touch. She knew how her mother, Selene, felt about the royal family; that they were useless, spoiled, and a waste of the country’s currency. And even though they’d become her most profitable customers, her opinions hadn’t changed. In fact, they were probably just proven to be factual at this point.

Following her mother out of the forge and into the showcase room, Vera watched her grab a beautiful, dark-stained wooden box lined with purple velvet, setting the crown upon a small pillow, clasping it closed to seal the robust rubies inside.

“The princess should be sending someone to collect the crown within the hour. I’m going on an errand run and then picking up some dinner--I’ll be back soon.” Selene kissed her daughter’s silvery-white head of hair before striding out of the store and down the main street of King’s Crossing; Vera’s amber eyes, slightly lighter than her mother’s, following her until she walked out of view.

※※※

Evenings at the store were usually quiet, placative, and rarely anyone came in past six. Being that it was already seven, with her mother having left thirty minutes ago, she wondered who would make it to the store first: royal guard here to pick up the crown or her mother bearing to-go bags of savory food?

A light jingle of bells echoed through the empty store as the door opened--and in walked Vera’s closest friend, Colette.

“I was wondering if you would show up today,” Vera laughed, embracing her friend tightly while being swallowed by her reddish-brown curls, mindful of the cardboard drink holders Colette shifted in her hold.

Colette pulled away first and narrowed her eyes scrutinizingly at Vera’s cheek, her thick eyebrows furrowing.

“What? What’s wrong?” Vera instantly brought a hand to where her gaze inspected, fingertips brushing along her forehead.

“You have the biggest smudge of gross black stuff on your face,” Colette deadpanned, licking her thumb before attempting to wipe at the smudge like a preening cat.

Vera batted her hands away just as quickly, “ _Okay_ , I think I can wipe it off myself, thank you.”

“Obviously not,” Colette pulled two cups of steaming coffee from the carrier onto the top of a nearby viewing stand, “because every time I come and visit you, you always have something on your face.”

“Not my fault my mom forces me to help her in the forge.”

Colette snorted, shaking her head while taking a sip of coffee and gesturing for Vera to do the same. The coffee was sweet and creamy, just how they both liked it, and Vera took note that her friend still wore the work outfit from where she makes and serves coffee at the café down the street.

“So,” Colette started, “I heard your mom had to make Princess Orlaith a new crown. What is that, like the twentieth one now?”

“Fifth actually, mom says she likes to have a new crown for every ‘regal’ event she attends.”

“That’s the most pretentious bullshit I’ve ever heard,” her friend scoffed, nearly pouring hot coffee on her apron, “What about the crown she was _given_? You know, the one that’s been passed down from mother to daughter?”

“I don’t know, maybe she only wears it for professional matters--like meetings and whatnot.”

Colette’s nose scrunched up in distaste, “It’s strange to think she’s the same age as us; I mean she has parties held in her name, she’s given everything she wants, and don’t even get me started on the number of suitors she has begging for her hand and stroking her ego.” She took another sip, “And she’s vile. And mean. Rude, bitchy…” Colette trailed off, listing every horrible trait of the princess on her fingers before pausing and exhaling deeply to rein herself in, “Did they pick up the crown yet?”

“No, you wanna see it?”

With an eager grin from Colette, Vera led her to the boxed crown and opened it, pulling it from its lush bed and holding it to the light of the setting sun. Now the crown looked more hideous than ever with the orange hues causing the gold to turn the color of rotten cider.

“That’s…”

“You don’t have to say it looks nice to spare my mom’s dignity. I already told her I thought it was ugly.”

“Yeah, that’s...a better way of putting it, I guess.”

They laughed together until the door jingled again and cut Colette off from what she was about to say next. Fully expecting her mother to be the one returning first, Vera hastily closed the lid and set the box aside. Instead, they were met with a towering man dressed in lithe black armor and a matching black mask. Vera could only assume this was the royal guard sent to collect the crown.

“Are you here on behalf of Princess Orlaith?” Vera asked, honing her face to a serious expression and her tone to nothing but the cold indifference that came with business, the same collectiveness her mother used. Next to her, Colette had ceased her laughing and was now staring in disbelief at the man, sipping her coffee once more in the pocket of silence before he answered.

“Yes, I am.” He said, stopping in front of the desk, located at the opposite wall of the entrance, where Vera and Collie had been looking at the crown. His voice was rough, deep, and sounded slightly mechanical through the perforations of the mask.

“I’m required to ask for a password, sir.”

The man inhaled deeply, almost in irritation, before he said, “Dawn break.”

She dipped her hand beneath the desk and extracted a stack of paperwork, setting it in front of the man, “I need you to sign here,” she flipped a few pages, “here,” and a few more, “and here, please.” She finished, offering him a black ink pen that the guard took in his gloved hand and began signing where she had pointed to. When he finished, the man looked expectantly at Vera, or what she assumed was ‘expectantly’ since his mask covered the entirety of his face and hair.

Vera gave a small, close-lipped smile and slid the box across the desk to the man. She didn’t need to ask him for payment as the royal family had already paid in advance for the crown, “Have a wonderful evening, sir.”

He simply took the box into his hands, nodded curtly, and walked out of the store to his black issued vehicle with the royal seal painted in gold on the side. Both girls watched intently before he sped down the street and out of sight.

Colette turned to her then, eyebrows raised, and whispered, “I bet he’s hot.”

The corner of Vera’s mouth quirked up before she burst into a fit of laughter, Colette joining in, “Watch him be part giant.”

“I don’t know, I feel like he could be an incubus,” she joked, poking Vera’s shoulder in a teasing manner.

“What would an incubus be doing working for the royal family?”

Her friend shrugged, “Maybe he got bored of his old job and wanted to change things up?” 

“Huh, then maybe he _is_ part incubus,” Vera waggled her eyebrows, sending Colette snickering into her hand. Neither of them had ever come across a Malus--the class of dark beings descended from the creatures that had risen from the Realm of Tophet when a rift had opened a portal to the hellish dimension long ago, allowing them to infiltrate the lands of the light beings, respectively classified as Malik, and the humans who shared a civil cohabitation. And although their predecessors reigned chaos and ruin, dark beings of today held tamer bloodlines, stripping them of their evil nature but not of their power.

“Okay, but he was huge--and his hands? They made that box look like a child’s toys,” Colette remarked, chucking her empty coffee cup into the trashcan beneath the desk, Vera doing the same. “On a side note,” she began, fiddling with the hem of her apron, “the Winter Solstice Ball is just around the corner, are you going?”

“No idea, wasn’t planning on it though. I don’t even have a dress or shoes,” Vera said, placing her elbow on the desk and leaning her chin on a hand. “Are you?”

“I want to, but my parents say I can’t go alone and neither of them are willing to come with me,” Colette batted her eyelashes, painting on her most devastated face. And for most people, it usually worked, but it had little to no effect on Vera who’s known Colette since adolescence.

She sighed, “I hate shopping, you know that, and in order for me to go, I need something to wear--which I don’t have.”

Colette waved her deep golden hand in the air as she muttered, “Excuses, excuses.” She mirrored Vera’s current position by also resting her chin on a hand before she spoke again, freckles dancing with every word, “I am _begging_ you, Ver, please come with me. I wasn’t able to go last year and I seriously miss it. You don’t have to talk to anyone, I’m not gonna force you to mingle; you can just stand in the corner and brood or whatever you like to do at parties.”

Vera lowered her brows, “I’ll only go on one condition.”

She watched as her friend’s face lit up in excitement, “Yeah, sure, what is it?”

“That I get to stay home on the night of the ball.”

Colette’s face dropped, her smile quickly replaced by an exasperated frown, “So, you’re not going? Like at all?”

“No,” Vera replied with a mocking grin.

Colette sighed, shaking her head dramatically, “You’re insufferable. Absolutely--”

The doorbells chimed again, causing the girls to whip their heads around in order to see who had entered the store, Colette with a look of eager anticipation and Vera with a very opposing scowl.

“Gods, Vera Hawthorne, if I ever see you greet a customer with _that_ face I will have your _neck_.” Selene had stumbled into the shop, balancing bags between her hands with contents unknown to Vera, except for the scent of food wafting from a large paper bag. Colette’s face was laced with a hint of disappointment but she obliged when Vera motioned for her to come help with the bags.

Vera had gone first for the paper bag and then for two other white ones; Colette had grabbed a couple as well, setting them all upon the dark oak desk. Immediately, Vera began digging into the food, swiftly grabbing a set of utensils, napkins, and a drink to wash it all down while Selene looked at her with a raised eyebrow, grabbing her own meal in a less animalistic manner.

“Were you planning on staying for dinner, Collie?” Selene asked, pushing any excess bags out of the way.

“No, actually, I was just about to leave, my parents have dinner ready at home,” Colette replied with a pleasant smile.

Selene hummed in acknowledgment and said her farewells as Vera walked Colette to the door. 

“Thanks for the coffee today, you know I always appreciate it,” she said, looking up a bit to speak to her friend, usually earning her a joking comment from Colette every so often.

“No problem, you pain in the ass,” Colette beamed, twirling her key ring on a finger, “But can you please promise to think about the ball?”

“Fine, fine I promise I’ll think about it, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna change my mind, Collie.”

Colette rolled her dark brown eyes and smiled before saying goodbye and exiting the shop, going down the street to where she had parked her blue gas scooter.

Vera stepped away from the door and walked back to her mother, sitting beside her in a collapsible chair that she pulled from the cleaning closet behind the desk before grabbing her knife and fork to continue eating.

“Collie wants to go to the ball, I take it?” Her mother spoke, abandoning her food and giving her daughter her undivided attention.

“Yeah…” Vera was staring at a dumpling, not sure what her mother would say next.

“And I’m assuming you don’t want to go?”

Vera looked up now, meeting her mother’s eyes, “No, not really. I haven’t gone to one in years and the last time I did, it was only because I was ten and you forced me.”

Her mother tilted her head, and it reminded Vera of a predator right before they mutilated their prey, “Well, then I guess you’re not going to like hearing this.”

She turned her head sharply at that, “What?”

Selene continued to pick at her food with a bored expression, dragging the anticipation on as long as she could, “I ran into Arryn when I went on my supply run--you know he’s lost weight? He looks good now even with all those--”

“ _Mom._ ” Vera hissed, grimacing at the thought of what her mother would have said next if she hadn’t have cut her off.

Her mother raised her brows as she often did, giving way to gentle wrinkles, and continued, “As I was saying, I ran into Arryn and he offered me a pair of ball tickets. He said something about him and his wife having to go out of town, I’m not sure, I wasn’t really listening, but I think--” her mother turned her body to face Vera and placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, squeezing gently “--I think it would be fun. It could be a bonding night that we both very much deserve because, gods above, have we been working hard lately.” Her mother finished with a sweet smile. 

Vera thought she glimpsed a lace of anguish in that expression, but just as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

She didn’t know what to say. That she wished her mother hadn’t run into Arryn Waldroop, an old friend but also a well-known diplomat who rarely ever missed events such as the Winter Solstice Ball, and she be offered his tickets? Instead, Vera settled for something less brash, “Oh…yeah, we can do that. I’ll have to call Collie and tell her the change of plans, I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear it.”

Her mother smiled once more. 

_Maybe this is all just a ploy to get me out of the house_ , Vera thought, but believed that to be nonsensical, “We’ll have to go shopping.”

“Of course, we can go shopping tomorrow, if you want,” Selene offered, taking a sip from the straw of her drink.

Vera nodded absently to the plans before heading upstairs to the apartment portion of the building where she and her mother lived.

She decided to tell Colette of the news tomorrow; mainly because she didn’t want Colette to bathe in the fact that she was getting her way whether Vera had a say in it or not.

※※※

The sun rose the next day, chasing the moon in its slow pursuit across the sky and banishing the stars beneath the horizon. Selene wasted no time in waking up her daughter, who practically growled like an alley cat when she’d thrown open the bedroom curtains, before getting ready herself; leaving Vera to groggily message Colette, telling her to meet at the apartment to tag along in finding a dress for the ball and earning a smug text from her friend in response. 

Vera had simply glared incessantly at her phone.

Colette arrived within record time, punching the code into the keypad at the front entrance and dashing up the wooden stairs to bombard into Vera’s unkempt room.

“Really, Ver?” She had said, pointing to an ever-growing mass of dirty laundry piled on the chair in front of an equally cluttered desk. Vera had simply shrugged dismissively and continued to pull on a pair of jeans and an old baggy shirt that managed to engulf her frame. Even in a city prided for its unrivaled safety, that aspect didn’t quite extend to those who leered and quietly stalked unsuspecting passersby on more secluded streets and alleys for a quick glance, a quick taste of violation; some merely gazed with hunger in their eyes while others chose to act upon those unsatiated needs.

It’s always best to refrain from drawing attention to oneself whilst roaming the more sinister corners of Theron. After all, pleas for help are no more muted background noise than that of a vehicle’s engine.

Driving idly through Theron, the capital of Aethia, they stopped at every boutique and gown designer’s store. Vera tried on more dresses than she could count, and with every dress, her irritability grew and grew until there was a permanent glowering countenance etched onto her eyes and lips. Selene had merely told Vera to cut it out before she developed premature wrinkles. Her mood hadn’t improved.

Though, like any other being, Vera did enjoy the finer things; she enjoyed looking put together and regal every once in a while, but, gods, did she dread the process. A majority of retail businesses directed their advertising towards specific beings in order to better market for the intended wearer of their clothing, but despite Vera’s Fae heritage, it was more often than not that alterations and fittings took longer than others.

She went from dress to dress, violets to blues to reds to greens to yellows, each a different style of their own, before finally settling on a black one--Colette and Selene hadn’t been surprised by her choice of color in the slightest. The dress was simple but beautiful, elegant. The sleeves extended to the wrists and the collar came up to give a mock neck appearance with two slits running up in front of each leg and stopping mid-thigh. 

Her mother may be stingy when it came to certain things, but royal events, public meetings, and other professional matters, were not one of them. In fact, Vera once watched her mother purchase a blouse of fine silk for an exorbitant price that she only ended up wearing once to a meeting with a wealthy client. After that, it had remained in her closet, untouched, and hanging neatly from a clothes hanger; another piece of fabric to fill the space. 

Vera always thought it was absurd how much her mother cared about the public’s view of her, but she also understood. Selene was Fae, and their kind were held in high precedence; so, when Selene discovered her ability to bend metal, the people of her country village had turned to her and watched her every move. Whether it was out of curiosity, loyalty, or spite, Selene did not know. But Fae with gifts are rare, a commodity, hence the reason why her mother ventured to the capital soon after to take advantage of her gods’ blessed abilities and create a name for herself. Quickly enough, she became known as one of the greatest metallurgists the city had ever seen--and unwillingly got herself entangled in the riptide of politics, parties, and press.

Selene never failed to remind her daughter of this story, always reciting it to her before bed when she was younger; although, as Vera grew older, the story would change from something of a fairytale to that of a life lesson. Even now, she had yet to figure out what the lesson was, always offering flippant guesses to her mother that would be met with a shaking of Selene’s head, her light brown hair moving with the gesture.

It seemed there was always a lesson to be learnt, even as Selene lectured her daughter on the art of bartering as they left the final boutique.

※※※

By the time they returned, the sun was already setting, casting deep shadows into the armory store that Selene owned. Colette hobbled inside with her menagerie of purchases, followed by Vera and her mother; she watched as her friend set the bags down with an _umph_ and sat on the wood floors beside them, leaning back on tired palms. Vera settled to the left of Colette, her body hunching over in exhaustion as she grumbled unintelligibly, pulling out her phone and going through a few miscellaneous notifications.

“Tired?” Her mother called from across the showroom where she sat at her desk, now typing at her computer.

“Yeah, something like that,” Vera mumbled, resting her head on Colette who didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“You know,” Colette began, shuffling through her bags and causing Vera to stir, muttering something about not sitting still, “I’m so glad I got these shoes, I’ve been looking for a pair just like them for the longest god’s damned time.”

Vera hummed in agreement, her eyes slowly closing.

“And I’m glad you’re coming with me,” she continued, and a smile could be heard in her voice. “Besides, it was either you come willingly or I kidnap you.”

Selene snorted from where she sat and continued her work, grabbing a pair of glasses sitting off to the side to press up and onto the bridge of her nose.

A pocket of silence filled the storefront before Colette spoke again, “Selene…” She started hesitantly, “why aren’t you automatically invited to things like this--the ball, I mean?”

“Because, Colette,” Selene’s eyes remained roving over the computer screen, “I’m not some sort of diplomat, or politician, or part of a royal bloodline. I’m a metallurgist--I make weapons and jewelry and pretty little crowns, but I have no influence where it matters most. And to them, it matters most in power and wealth.”

Vera had awoken from her hazed half-slumber at the sound of her mother’s voice, fingertips rubbing circles on a temple.

“I may have influence and a successful business, but compared to those invited to tea with the royals, we’re as wealthy as the ones who live on the streets. Because those _beings_ ,” Selene scoffed with restrained venom, “are the one percent of the country that hold a majority percentage of the wealth, and that wealth equates to power.” She paused, her deep honey-colored eyes finding the two girls immersed in her words. Recollecting herself, she continued, “A metallurgist does not get invited to sip tea with the King and Queen. To them, I am nothing but another instrument to create whatever they will. And I’m sure their elongated Elysian lifetimes have allowed them to see many others just like me, only in different professions.”

“What do you know about them?” Vera asked from Colette’s side, “The Elysians.”

Selene had stopped typing now, stopped staring at her computer, and looked to her daughter, “Don’t you learn about them in your academics?”

“Not really,” Colette sighed, “all they talk about is the history of them, like who was King and Queen before our current monarchy and so on.”

At first Selene’s narrow brows stitched together, before raising in quiet realization, “Maybe it’s better you know only that.” She said, returning to whatever task demanded her current attention.

Now, Vera’s curiosity had been piqued, and it was obvious her mother knew more than she was saying, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Selene inhaled, her nostrils flaring gently, “that there’s probably a good reason for that.”

Colette and Vera exchanged questioning glances at the thickening tension between Selene and the topic at hand; but the former had already begun to rise from her seat on the floor, stretching and ignoring any disgruntled protests from Vera, “Well, I better get going, I’m sure my parents will be blowing up my phone soon enough. I’ll see you guys later,” and with a wave, she had collected her baggage and ambled her way out of the store, leaving Vera alone with her mother once again.

She groaned as she got up, rubbing her legs and pushing back luminescent hairs that had escaped from her bun behind her sharply pointed ears, bespeckled with a multitude of piercings on either one. Vera dragged herself to the seat beside her mother, settling against the plastic cushions while Selene clicked pointedly out of opened tabs, shutting her computer off before turning to her daughter and taking a deep breath, “You know it’s dangerous to ask such questions about the Elysians,” she tsked, pushing back a strand of hair to fall behind Vera’s ear that she had missed.

“Yeah, I know. I just…” She shrugged, “Don’t you think it’s strange that they’re constantly shrouded in mystery and have been for as long as anyone can seem to remember?”

“Of course I do, I want to understand them, too--just like many beings in this world want to. But some knowledge comes with a price, and sometimes it’s more than its worth.”

Vera’s focus traveled to the desktop, to a discarded stack of paperwork haphazardly placed into a manila folder, a broken pen beside it, “Do you know what the price is?”

Her mother hesitated. For the first time in her life, her mother had _hesitated_. Her cherry red lips thinned into something that Vera didn’t recognize. Was it distaste? Disappointment? 

“Why don’t you go shower and I’ll make dinner?” She settled on instead, offering a rueful smile.

“I stink that bad?” Vera asked, feigned offense laced in her response.

Laughing, Selene planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, causing her to scrub at the lipstick mark in disdain, “Yes, you smell absolutely awful, you’re bound to keep the rats away.”

And as she watched Vera drag her feet up the stairs and to the apartment, Selene’s phone rang from beside the keyboard. 

She quickly picked it up before it could continue.

* * *

Copyright © 2021 by Demenscous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be slowing down on my fic writing and probably focusing more on this instead when i have the time since school is picking up pace again,, i just wanted to give yall something in the meantime while i work on those things bc i haven't had time to write anything new thats ready for posting but hey ! i absolutely love love love fantasy, in fact its my favorite genre of books to read (like 97% of my bookshelves are high fantasy books hdjlsfbslsa)
> 
> Other Socials  
> Tumblr: demxnscous


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally got through editing this,, man it's so weird writing something and then looking back at it nearly half a year later and seeing every little mistake you made,, but hey that's growth !

Vera would have gladly stayed in for the entirety of the day if not Colette’s constant nagging about wanting to learn how to wield a weapon. And, naturally, Vera was the ideal person to nag. 

Having grown up around weaponry her entire life, she knew not only how to forge them, but also how to use them. She had practiced with almost every variety of weapon by now, from the most complicated to the simplest they came. Vera was nowhere near perfect; though, her mother had taught her everything she knew in the beginning. And as Vera grew, her want for more had outgrown her mother’s skills, forcing her to turn to books, movies, instructional videos, whatever she could get her hands on as they had lacked the money for proper lessons at the time.

But now that she was older, Selene most certainly had amassed enough money to afford even a private trainer, yet Vera had politely declined when presented with the offer. Selene never understood why, even tried to prod her daughter into explaining, always receiving the same indifferent shrug from Vera. After a while, she had given up hoping for an explanation and didn’t continue to offer any more lessons.

Unknown to Selene, Vera had continued her training in private, away from the prying eyes of her mother, in a hidden clearing located in the forest surrounding Colette’s family cottage. Vera had nothing to hide, in fact, if her mother knew she continued to practice by herself, she would be beyond proud. Even so, Vera chose to keep her practice in the shadows.

Today, she would be taking Colette to that same clearing, where her best friend tagged along all those times in the past and usually sat on a fallen log or plucked blades of grass while Vera had practiced.

She pulled on clothing suitable for strenuous movement before raiding her closet for all the weapons her mother had gifted her over the years, including her personal favorite: a pair of double swords that she unspokenly chose as her signature weapon of choice. Vera peered inside the duffel bag filled with an assortment of daggers, throwing knives, a bow and arrows, her own double swords, and a short-sword. She would have included a long-sword and many more, but doubted Colette would be willing to even go near it in fear she would cut herself on the more arduous weapons. Let alone, all of the weight Vera would have to carry from them.

Before leaving, she swiped scented translucent powder under her arms to dispel sweat and trudged the bulky duffel awkwardly down the stairs. Despite Vera having placed the strap across her entire body to balance the weight, it didn’t keep her from stumbling every few steps and nearly sliding down her back towards the end of the stairwell. Once her booted feet had planted themselves on the landing in front of the entryway, she opened the door that led to the showroom and heaved herself, and the bag, out.

“Do you need some help with that, Miss?” 

Vera froze at the familiar male voice and preternaturally sniffed the air with such delicacy, to the untrained eye, it was unnoticeable. She turned her head towards the showroom and lowered her stare immensely to behold a man no taller than four feet. With beady black eyes, neatly slicked salt and pepper hair, and his infamous cane, Vera recognized him immediately. 

Torbin Berkshire.

The Berkshire’s reveled in their limitless wealth and were considered to be one of the most affluent families in Theron, and likely in the entirety of Aethia, right below the royal family’s insurmountable assets, undoubtedly. Vera knew just as much of the Berkshire’s as anyone else in this city did: that they were rich and tended to keep company with the royal family.

Vera gave Torbin her usual forced, but believable, smile, “I’m fine, thank you, but did you need help looking for something? Anything in particular you’re here for?”

“Actually,” He began, picking at his neatly clipped nails and flashing his unpleasant attention around the showroom, “I was hoping to talk with your mother.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’ll go get her right now, sir, she’s just in the forge.” Vera hated formalities, and she especially despised giving them to this man. He made her skin crawl for reasons she didn’t quite understand, even though he came to the shop nearly every month. 

Vera set the duffel at the entrance to the forge and poked her head in, “Hey, mom, that Berkshire guy is here. He said he wanted to talk to you.” Luckily, Torbin Berkshire was out of earshot to hear the obvious detestation in her voice that could easily land her in mild turmoil with the man.

Her mother had been in the midst of forging something small that glowed red hot, hanging in the air between her stained hands, before her body jerked at Vera’s unannounced arrival, the object clattering to the stone floor. Vera flinched in anticipation for her mother to yell at her for interrupting, but when she turned, her expression was taut.

“Torbin Berkshire?” Selene demanded in a hushed tone.

She nodded, watching her mother take a steadying breath and begin wiping her hands roughly against the apron she wore.

“What’s that?” She asked, pointing a soot-blackened finger at the discarded duffel.

“I was about to ask if I could go to Colette’s house to hang out.”

“And what’s in the bag?”

Vera saw no point in lying, her mother was too keen on her tells, “Weapons--Collie wanted me to teach her.”

Selene hummed slowly in acknowledgement before narrowing her eyes in an accusatory manner, “Do you even remember how to use half the things I gave you?”

“Uh…well, yeah.”

“Great. Try not to kill each other and be back by six before it gets dark.” And with a swift movement, Selene had retied her hair, striding out of the forge. Vera winced inwardly, if her mother ever walked towards _her_ like that, she would already be begging for mercy. 

Vera hefted the duffel back over her body and watched as her mother began discussing matters with Torbin. She couldn’t hear what, exactly, they were saying, but based on Selene’s composure, it was nothing good.

Grabbing her keys from one of the hooks by the back door, she plodded out of the showroom and to the back parking lot where they kept her and her mother’s vehicles behind the shop. Initially, her mother hadn’t been too enthused on the idea of buying Vera a separate vehicle, but when Vera’s activities and academics began interfering with her mother’s deliveries and errands, she had caved and bought her a slightly older and used model.

The drive to Colette’s house was moderately long and uneventful. Vera listened to her music and watched the tourists meander down the streets as she passed. Sometimes she found it odd that her home city was a popular tourist attraction, like how an animal is gawked at by strangers on the other side of the glass. Though, if she told Colette this, Vera knew she’d only be met with, “ _You think too much, Ver._ ”

The cottage was located on the outskirts of the city where the Weeping Forest overtook the land. It was a quaint home, built from stone and wood, with a moss lawn and a garden of flowers, vegetables, and fruits that grew wherever they pleased due to the spell of infinite spring placed upon the Forest. Vines snaked up the side of the stone and Vera noticed plumes of greying smoke coming from the chimney. When she got out of her car, she was immediately ambushed by the Rosenheims’ many dogs; scratching a golden haired one behind the ear and cupping the face of a brown short hair while Colette rushed from the house to where Vera crouched among the dogs.

“Be _nice_ ,” Colette reprimanded the animals, gently coaxing them away to get to her friend. Today her tight curls had been pulled into a bun, a thin scarf tied around her hairline.

“You ready?” Vera asked, rising from the ground and using her hip to push Colette in a teasing manner.

“Absolutely.”

Colette helped Vera in removing the duffel from the backseat and, together, they set out for the stables where the Rosenheim’s kept their horses. Once they had reached the barn, with the dogs happily following in pursuit, Colette began tacking up a small bay mare while Vera had grabbed a larger and stockier grey gelding; the path’s varying widths and other precarious factors rendered it unsuitable for motor vehicles of any sorts. And when they had finished, Vera strung the duffel over her body, mounting the horse as her friend did the same.

“ _Stay_.” Colette had pointed an authoritative finger at each of the dogs, who obeyed willingly and relaxed in the shade of the barn as the two urged their horses to walk on.

Despite Colette having lived around horses her entire life, and her parents being exceptional riders, she never showed interest in learning the skill, to her parents’ dismay. But Vera had--Colette’s mother and father had gladly taught Vera, taking her in as if she were their own, and offering her the opportunity to ride their horses whenever she pleased; Vera had happily accepted.

Colette’s awkward riding was apparent now that she began shifting in the saddle, double-checking her stirrups and holding the reins too high, but Vera didn’t care enough to correct her and possibly earn an irritable muttering from her friend.

They continued on the dirt path, trodden down by past ventures. A single crow passed above them, a black smudge against the pale blue sky. Colette pointed towards it, eliciting a snort from her mare before she settled back down again in the saddle.

“Why do you think it’s called the Weeping Forest?” She asked, her golden skin looking darker now in the shadows of the great trees that lined the path, a contrast to Vera's own skin that took on a sickly grey in the dim lighting.

Vera shrugged, or at least tried to, with the duffel it looked as if she had been readjusting out of discomfort, which wasn’t far from the truth, “Maybe it’s because of the willows.”

“But there’s not even that many of them.”

She pursed her lips, leaning back in the saddle to slouch, “I think there’s a story behind it, but I forget. I don’t know, Collie, just look it up on your phone.”

Colette pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and lifted it, with an expression of annoyance, for Vera to see, “There’s no service, idiot.”

Vera smiled, “Then you can look it up when you get back home, moron.”

Another few minutes of pleasant silence passed between the girls before they finally reached the clearing in the forest, a sight to behold within itself.

“I never get tired of this place,” Vera remarked as Colette dismounted her mare and crossed over to help carry down the duffel; first the bag landed on the ground, then Vera, bending her knees to cushion the hard blow against her feet. The massive clearing was beautiful, something from a storybook, with its lush, green grass and a great pond in the midst of it all. A few ducks paddled idly in the clear water and a buck raised its delicate head from where he had been grazing on the edge of the clearing, flowers littering the ground in clusters.

“Me neither,” agreed Colette from where she kneeled on the ground, already sifting through the bag while Vera grabbed both horses and tied their reins in a slipknot around a low tree bough, patting the shoulder of one of the animals before making her way back to Colette.

“So,” Vera began, clapping her hands together, “what do you want to start with? Knives, swords, bow?”

Colette pulled the carved wooden bow from the bag and eyed it with eagerness. The bow had been a gift that her mother had purchased at a solar festival when Vera was younger, it was the only thing Selene hadn’t created in the assortment of weapons. “What about this?” Her friend asked, holding up the bow, a light breeze ruffling through the stray hairs that curled from beneath the red scarf.

Vera tightened her ponytail and gestured for Colette to follow behind, “Yeah, we can start with archery.” Colette rose from her squat beside the duffel and stood where Vera had tapped her foot against the grass, pointing towards a tree with a bulbous knot in the bark, “That’s your target. The knot is the bullseye.” She immediately began adjusting her friend into the proper stance--pulling her elbow, poking her leg, lifting her chin, until Colette was in the adequate position.

“Are you done yet?” Colette groaned, barely moving her head to avoid being prodded and handled again.

And with an affirmative nod, they commenced. 

Training consisted of disappointed slumps from Colette, constant nitpicking by Vera, and many arrows landing anywhere but the knot, let alone the actual tree. After an hour of this tedious cycle, Colette managed to pierce the bark. It still wasn’t close to the knot but a quick glance over her shoulder gave the view of Vera giving two thumbs up and an encouraging smile. They continued for some time more until Colette set the bow on the grass and sat herself down before falling onto her back, arms above her head as she stared up into the clouds.

“Alright, I’m done. When are we going back?”

Vera had been leaning against a tree, using a small dagger to clean the dirt from beneath her nails, “But you haven’t even hit the knot.”

“And I’m not going to hit it _today_. We can practice some other time.”

She pulled herself from the trunk of the willow, plucking stray leaves from her hair that had fallen from the branches above--before her entire body stilled. 

Colette noticed immediately and used her elbows to prop herself up, “What’s wrong?” She was human and didn’t have the heightened capabilities of her friend, but Colette had learned over the years how to pick up on Vera’s body language.

Vera sniffed the air once as if she were clearing her nose, which was believable enough considering the leeching pollen that had caused her sinuses to clog throughout the time they’d been here, “Nothing, I just thought I heard a bird.” Calmly, she strode over to Colette, offering an arm. Vera’s fingers looked stark against Colette’s deep olive skin when she grasped her forearm, lifting her friend from the ground as she whispered, “Let’s go back to the house, huh?” 

Colette’s brows knit in confusion, “What about--”

But Vera was quick to cut her off with a wave of her hand, “Don’t worry about the arrows, we can come back another time, remember?”

“Sure…” Colette had been gripping the bow from when Vera pulled her from the grass, now slinging the bow across her lithe body. Disregarding the abandoned arrows, Vera grabbed her friend’s arm again and increased their pace to a hasty, yet calm, gait. 

Internally, Vera had to keep her heart from pounding too loudly, even if Colette couldn’t hear it, it was obvious that whatever was in the forest surely possessed impeccable auditory range. And a keen sense of smell… 

Colette had already busied herself with untying the slipknot and getting on the mare, meanwhile, Vera was trying to hoist the duffel onto her shoulder when the sound of creaking leather, originating from Colette stirring in her saddle, tapped against her eardrum. Vera sensed the malicious presence before the words left Colette’s mouth.

“Vera…” She whispered in a voice so small, so terrified, it made her chest ache.

She turned then, silver ponytail whipping along her cheek as the creature came into view. 

It was standing across the clearing, mostly shrouded by shrubbery and branches, its eyes the only visible aspect--a bright white, like the glare of the moon. And each time Vera tried to focus on the creature, her vision swam and it was as if it was made of a dark mist, of curling shadows.

With a surge of adrenaline and fear muddled together, Vera grabbed the horn of the saddle and pushed off from a large rock to fling herself onto the horse’s back. “ _Go!_ ” Her voice was as loud and sharp as a crack of thunder. Colette shouted at the mare, bolting towards the path with Vera just behind. Dirt sprayed into her face, knuckles bone-white as she grasped the reins and held on tightly, urging her horse to go faster until she was parallel with Colette and galloping at a dizzying speed.

Trees whipped past in a blur of greens, the path beneath becoming nauseating to look at, and Colette’s face twisted in fear. Pure fear. The muscle in her jaw clenched tightly and the whites of her dark umber eyes showed considerably.

Vera stole a glance behind them, and in the dust created from the uproar of pounding hooves, was the creature from the clearing. It was a slash of black, moving too fast to make out its vague edges. A headache formed behind her eyes, threatening to pierce them from within her skull, and she returned her frantic gaze in front of her.

“ _Shit_ ,” Vera hissed, but it was muffled in the chaos and reduced to nothing but a whisper. A fallen tree lay ahead in the path. It hadn’t been there before. Vera twisted her head to look at Colette next to her, “ _Hold on tightly and lean forward!_ ” She called out over the commotion, before the dust could swallow her words.

Colette flashed her an exasperated look, one filled with terror, eyes still wide and unblinking, but she obeyed. Her legs squeezed tighter around the mare and she pitched her body slightly forward in the saddle. Vera took one last glimpse behind them and met the sinister gaze of their pursuer. She could have sworn it smiled back.

Both horses braced for the jump and so did they. Time seemed to drip slowly as Vera watched Colette’s frantic face, her eyes tightly squeezed shut. If Colette fell off while they were taking a jump at a speed like this, she would be severely injured. And, if by some miracle, the fall wasn’t enough to break bone, the creature would deal out its own horrors.

In the seconds that stretched for an eternity, Vera prayed to any gods that would listen, for anything they could spare. And as they landed, her stomach hollowing, Vera’s attention remained pinned to Colette. _If she fell--_

But she was fine. 

Despite being thrown forward a bit on the mare’s neck, Colette righted herself and continued on. Vera, having landed a bit more gracefully, rode alongside her and threw her focus ahead, to the nearing exit of the path. She would have exhaled in relief if it weren’t for the fact that she felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Instead, the sounds of the two horses huffing, Colette’s shaky breathing, and her own desperate gasps of air filled her hearing until they reached the cottage’s surrounding glade.

The horses’ hooves skidded along the moss and grass until they halted to a stop right outside the blooming gardens of Colette’s home. Vera immediately looked back towards the forest entrance--and saw nothing but trees and bushes. She exhaled in relief then, sounding more like she was being strangled than anything else.

“What…” Colette started, her voice wavering, “ _t_ _he fuck._ ”

Vera shook her head gently, dried lips parted in shock, “I don’t--I don’t know…” She could feel the gelding breathing hard and fast, sweating much like the two girls despite the mild temperature.

Colette had been staring at her hands in unease when a screen door could be heard opening and slamming shut.

“ _What in the_ \--” It was Davinia Rosenheim, Colette’s mother. She placed two assertive hands on her wide hips, “What is this?” She demanded, motioning a deep brown hand towards the gashes in the lawn created by the horses’ hooves. “I--” But when she saw the expressions of her daughter and Vera, she knew something was terribly wrong. It would take a fool not to notice. “Girls?” She asked, her face softening.

Colette looked up from her hands, rubbed raw from the reigns, and to her mother, “I--we, um…” Vera could see the internal battle occurring in Colette’s mind: tell the truth or lie, “...we thought we saw a bear.” Colette took an unsteady breath, “It chased us.”

The latter it was.

* * *

Copyright © 2021 by Demenscous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i can't wait for the ball chapter,, by far probably one of my favorite chapters
> 
> anywayyss, you know what would be cool? og writing anthologies,, i think that would be neat, just having a little work on here to add chapters to of any miscellaneous writing pieces i come up w just for my own self indulgence. also i've been watching jjk recently and the way i wanna start writing some fics for megumi and yuuji is OVERWHELMING,, but i need get some school work done before i decide to start something new (my god i still need to update IHIH and TRL what is wrong w me,, I WISH I HAD MORE TIME ON MY HANDS)
> 
> Other Socials  
> Tumblr: demxnscous


	3. Chapter III

Davinia ushered the girls inside, calling to her husband for help; the man hurtling out of the kitchen with his usually sallow face now a beet red, nearly knocking a vase over in the process. Colette’s father, Harrison Rosenheim, had been the one to retrieve the horses while Davinia sat the now haggard girls down on the leather couch in front of a stone fireplace where a few logs had been burning inside.

“Gods above, look at the two of you,” Davinia fussed, pulling broken twigs from their hair and assessing the multitude of minor cuts from where branches had torn at the girls’ faces.

After Davinia had uncovered some old healing salves and applied it to their wounds, eliciting a few winces from both Vera and Colette, she had sent the former home, making sure Vera was able to drive herself, of course. Colette’s mother had offered a strained, but apologetic, smile as she explained that she ‘needed to have a discussion in private with her daughter’. And before Vera had left the Rosenheim’s cottage, Elowyn, Colette’s younger sister, voiced her goodbyes and well-wishes to feel better by tomorrow. Vera couldn’t help but give the young girl a tight hug; despite never being good with children, or even liking them, Elowyn was an exception her reputation could afford.

With her duffel now in the car, she drove out of their rocky driveway and back home, feeling immensely sorry for whatever conversation Davinia was about to have with Colette.

※※※

“Welcome back,” her mother drawled from behind the store desk as Vera dropped the duffel bag near the stairwell entrance that led to the apartment, “Davinia called--said that a bear chased you and Collie.”

She leaned back against the stairwell door, looking to Selene, “Yeah, it scared the shit out of us.” And before she could take it back, her mother was already frowning.

“ _Language._ ”

Cringing inwardly, she made to open the door, “Sorry.” Her mother’s peevishness toward that of vulgarities was understandable, but odd. Vera was no longer the young and naïve girl of her adolescence, repeating the words of others that she found in her environment, and yet Selene remained to enforce the rule.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Vera’s dirt crusted nails paused on the doorknob, “To the apartment.”

“No, you’re not, because I’m not finished talking. Sit down.” With an opposing manicured hand, her mother pointed to a seat beside her own and Vera obliged quietly. “What were you doing in the Weeping Forest? You know how I feel about you going there.”

“Yes, I know--”

“You _knew_ and you still went anyway.” Her tone had grown sharper now, putting even the most famed sword’s edge to shame. “That forest is as unnatural as a pig being able to fly. Do I need to remind you why it’s so dangerous?”

“No--”

“Actually, I think I do because _obviously_ you didn’t listen to me the first fifty times I said it before.” She steepled her hands in her lap as she recited the familiar words that Vera had heard one too many times, “I need you to remember that the Weeping Forest was created a long time ago when Maliks weren’t able to grow produce out of season as we do now. The governing Elysians then had discovered a spell to cast on the land in which their people could grow food in a place where the weather would remain perfect year-round and provide for its citizens, but in order to go through with the spell, the lives of seven dryads needed to be sacrificed. And, so, the Elysians completed the spell with voluntary tributes and cast the forest into an endless spring.” Selene paused, gazing at her ornate silver and onyx ring, twin to the one Vera wore on the same finger, “It’s said that on the anniversary of the spell, the sky and the forest weep for the lives of the dryads.”

Vera remained silent as her mother continued.

“However, the Weeping Forest is also a cesspool of magical creatures and vicious animals who enjoy playing tricks and taunting lost travelers.”

“But that’s all just a story.”

Selene shifted in the chair, her lips pressing into a thin line, “There’s always a bit of truth to every story. So, I’m going to ask you this question once, and you will answer it honestly: was it really a _bear_ , Vera?”

“Yes.” _No_.

Her mother rubbed her temples before giving a brief wave of her hand, dismissing her daughter from the conversation. Vera didn’t look her in the eye as she walked up the stairs into the apartment and sauntered to her room, flopping on the bed. A single, clear tone rang from Vera’s jacket pocket, and she pulled out the phone she had nearly forgotten was there. Colette had texted her.

Vera read the messages, dropping her phone on the blankets as she scrubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. It was barely noon, but she was exhausted from what had happened in the forest.

Hanging on her closet door was the dress that her mother had purchased for her the other day. She’d barely noticed it there, too caught up in replaying the chase in her head over and over and over again. Instead, she watched as the thick afternoon light pierced through the window and danced along the dress, or it should have, but the fabric’s color seemed to be an abyss for the rays, swallowing them into a never-ending darkness.

 _How poetic,_ she thought, drifting to sleep and stumbling into outlandish dreams.

※※※

Murmuring voices dragged Vera from her rest and pinched her awake. Opening her eyes groggily, she saw that the night had stretched through the sky, stars glittering above. Either it was barely past six or she had slept through dinner and late into the night. She hoped it wasn’t the latter.

By now her cuts had healed over completely and her body no longer ached; her Fae immune system becomes heightened in times of stress, a common defense against illnesses. Vera soundlessly moved to her shut door where the voices had been originating from, pressing her ear against it in an attempt to get a clearer hearing of the hushed words.

It was her mother, “Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?”

“Of course, why do you doubt me? It hurts my feelings, Selene.” Torbin.

She heard her mother sigh and could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose as she said, “I don’t doubt you, I just can’t risk us screwing this up.”

“I know, we only have one shot, but we’ll make it count. I promise.”

“Tophet take me, you shouldn’t even _be_ here, Torbin.”

“Well, I figured it was better to do this in person rather than over the phone.”

Vera peeked beneath the crack of the door and could make out Torbin’s small shadow…and something else. Her eyes narrowed at the strange shape of his shadow, the way the darkness slithered and roiled around his back, forming what looked like a pair of mutilated wings.

She reeled back, pulling away from the door. But when Vera went to look again, ensuring she hadn’t imagined what she’d seen, a headache threatened behind her eyes, piercing her skull. Dazed, with curdled fog veiling her thoughts, she shook her head in a feeble attempt to clear the haze.

 _This isn’t real. I’m dreaming_. _It’s not real._

Vera stumbled to return to her bed as her mother and Torbin’s voices melded together. Everything sounded as if she were underwater now and when she stared too long at the same place, her vision would fade to a deep grey. She was right, this was just a dream. The invisible water rushed into her ears, swirls of muted colors swam before her, and everything went black.

The next thing she knew, Vera jolted awake, sitting upright, trying to catch her breath as her heart beat erratically. Cold sweat caused her hair to stick to the back of her neck and her clothes were damp all over. Carding her hands through her hair, she grasped at what she could, tightening her grip to feel a dull ache; a reminder to herself that this was real. She let her body hunch over, still panting hard as she recalled last night’s events. She remembered nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the last thing she remembered was simply staring at the dress.

Resting her forehead on a hand, she watched the morning light seep through the window. It was already the next day; the day of the Winter Solstice Ball. Throwing the heavy comforters from her body, Vera pulled on clean and dry clothing before padding out of the room and into the kitchen, where her mother was cooking breakfast.

“Sleep okay?” She asked, flipping a pancake and grabbing a plate, “Why’s your hair all damp?”

“I--um,” Vera rubbed her forehead again, “I have an awful headache, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ver, do you need to take some painkillers?”

“Yeah…”

She watched as her mother grabbed a medicine bottle from the cabinet and then a plate full of food, setting them down simultaneously in front of her, “Here’s some coffee to wash it down,” she said, placing a chipped mug next to the plate.

“Thanks, mom,” Vera murmured, and she meant it to come out as grateful but it sounded horribly slurred, “Last night…”

Her mother turned to look at her, sipping from a matching mug, with expectant eyes.

“How long was I out for?”

“You mean your nap? Gods, Ver, I have no idea. I’ve never seen you sleep like that before. I walked in around three and you were out cold.” Her mother’s keen gaze traveled to Vera’s left hand, “What happened to your ring?”

Vera looked at the piece of jewelry sitting on her ring finger, where the small onyx stone had been shattered. Her eyes widened and she stumbled for words.

“It’s fine, you can tell me what happened. I can make you a new one tomorrow.” Selene was chewing on a piece of greasy bacon, resting back against the counter.

Vera stared at the ring, confusion lacing her voice, “I…I don’t know what happened.” That ring had meant everything to her and it was now broken; from disregard for its fragility or just a mere accident, she was unsure.

After some reassuring from her mother, and eating a copious amount of eggs, she had finished her breakfast and took a scalding hot shower to rinse the dried sweat away from the night. And she had stood there on that tub floor, allowing the water to stream over her body, letting her chest rise and fall.

Vera bathed with a distracted mind, but with each breath, the shock racked her body and she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t escaped. Would she have been killed instantly? Would her mother have fallen to the floor, screaming when she got the news? Would Colette have followed her terrible fate?

Within her thoughts, Vera watched the parallel universe in which she had been caught by that creature, standing in every scene as it played out gruesomely, invisible to those around her.

When she finished bathing, she quickly made her way to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. By now, the intrusive feelings had passed, though they remained lingering in the corners of her mind. She had, for the most part, managed to steady her breath, forcing herself to put on her work clothes to help around the shop today. After all, today is supposed to be a day to remember.

* * *

Copyright © 2021 by Demenscous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than the others but the next chapter will definitely make up for it ;)
> 
> Other Socials  
> Tumblr: demxnscous


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out this amazing fanart of Vera that literally had me just screaming into my hoodie when i saw it bc i love it sm dfsjhfbhjlbaljh: https://www.instagram.com/wazzup.wazzy/?utm_source=ig_embed

Seconds bled to minutes and minutes bled to hours as customers came and went. Vera vaguely remembered the conversations she had with half of them, let alone what metalwork she sold to them; the only exchange that stood out like a sore thumb in her memory was when Mrs. Patchitt, a decently regular customer, made a snide comment on the array of jewelry Vera wore in either ear.

“You’ll regret them when you’re older, trust me, dear, and they’ll look awful and stretched out, too.” Mrs. Patchitt had said, pluming her incredibly teased hair and turning a haughty nose up. Vera merely recalled the twitching irritation within her, and a few select words that had seemed more than tempting to share in the moment.

The dissociated haze in which she worked throughout the day had been cleared when Colette pranced into the store after business hours, a grin plastered to her pretty face. A pretty face in which the cuts she had received from the trees were now absent with no thin scars to be found; whichever healer she had gone to yesterday after the incident in the forest must have been exceptionally well at their practice.

“Aw, Ver, look at you,” Colette crooned, “looking like you’re half dead--how cute.” 

“Only on the inside,” she teased in return, laughing lightly and pushing the thoughts of the Weeping Forest to the back of her mind.

Colette embraced her tightly before giving a squeeze and letting go. “No, but seriously, I thought you were going to murder me when I walked in. You had that look in your eye.”

“Oh, shut up.” 

Leading Colette to the apartment stairs, they made their way to Vera’s room, exchanging a few more absent-minded quips as they passed the living room and kitchen areas. Pushing the door open, Colette made herself comfortable on the full-sized bed riddled with pillows and blankets, “Huh, you actually cleaned for once.”

Vera offered a caustic laugh and commenced digging through her makeup, pulling out the necessities and organizing the vanity beforehand. Meanwhile, Colette splayed her powder blue gown onto the bed and smoothed out any wrinkles; the dress held an intricately stitched flower detailing of the same blue color along the bodice, fanning out down the long gown with miniscule crystals that sparkled in the light. Where Vera’s dress teased those whose eyes snagged upon the fabric, Colette’s yearned to be in the spotlight.

“Alright, we have three and a half hours. That should be plenty of time to get the both of us ready.” Colette said, clasping her hands together.

Vera watched as she disappeared to the bathroom with a bag of hair supplies to begin styling her hair while Vera started on her makeup at the vanity in her room. And by the time Colette was finished pulling her hair into a loose top knot, reddish-brown curls framing her face, Vera was only halfway through with her makeup; to save time, her friend expertly worked on her stark silvery hair, placing it in a ponytail and loosening stray hairs to create a relaxed effect that matched the flowing curls Colette had created.

Afterwards, Vera proceeded with her friend’s makeup, having to use Colette’s personal foundation and concealer since they were far from the same shade. And when she finished, Colette opened her eyes and looked at herself agape, then to her friend who smiled pleasantly.

“Holy shit, Ver.” She mumbled, leaning forward and admiring the handiwork, “We look _good_.”

Vera briefly checked her phone and saw that they had thirty minutes to spare before a driver her mother had called in advance would pick the three of them up. Both of the girls shimmied into their dresses, clasping on accessories, adding final touches to makeup, rechecking for their entry invitations, and making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything before their time ran out and Selene was calling them to hurry up.

The vehicle her mother had ordered was sleek and large enough to allow them comfort on the drive to their destination. And once they had reached the gargantuan castle at the center of Theron, they stepped out of the vehicle, aided by the offering hands of groomed men in matching suits of white and gold. Colette had taken the hand of a young man, whom she beamed at pleasantly and caused to blush a deep red. The older man who held a hand out for Vera gave a tight-lipped smile when she gave her thanks, and her mother merely waved them off, saying she could handle herself quite fine.

The steps up to the palace were strenuous and testing in heels. Vera wouldn’t be surprised if blisters had formed on her feet by the time they actually reached the ballroom. They waited in line, each pulling their coats tightly across their bodies to fend off the cold. And after several security checks, Selene had flashed their invitations, which had been a gold-painted key with a white tassel on the end for this year’s ball, to the guards. The two men opened the entryway large enough to let the girls pass inside where they were met with a grand foyer.

Inside, it all seemed to be made of marble, gold, and white fixtures; two sets of staircases curled towards a landing that led to two more staircases above. And in the midst of the foyer was a fountain of a beautiful angel weeping, carved from a cold grey stone. Servants offered to take their coats and gave directions to the ballroom, which lay straight down the hallway, past the fountain, and through the middle set of doors of the three rooms at the end.

“Wow,” Vera mumbled in awe, she’d forgotten what the inside of the palace looked like after all those years of avoidance.

Colette was nearly bursting with giddiness, looking everywhere but in front of her,

“I know right?” 

There were three entryways set in a half-circle at the end of the painting lined hallway. The right doors were where the profusions of buffet tables and drinks had been set up along with round tables and chairs for guests to relax at, the middle was the threshold to the ballroom, and the far left doors were… 

Closed. With two, intimidating guards flanking either side of the grand double doors. It seemed only Vera cared to take notice of it as she slowed, falling behind her mother and Colette, watching the doors open and close behind a man dressed in an entire suit of black who stood taller than that of the stone-faced guards by a few inches. He had disappeared into the extravagance and celebration of the ballroom, swallowed by the crowd of revelers.

Colette grabbed her wrist, causing Vera to refocus her attention, “Come _on_ , you’re so slow,” her friend groaned, dragging her to catch up with her mother who had stopped to wait for them before continuing on.

“Sorry I can’t keep up with you and your long legs.”

Colette had barely heard the retort as the clamoring of the crowd and the fast-paced orchestral music enveloped their senses. The ballroom could be described as a great cavern, with light candelabras lining the walls and a resplendent crystal chandelier hanging from the center of its painted domed ceiling that depicted cherubs, angels, and clouds. On the farthest wall from the entrance, adjacent to the musicians, was a golden dais where the royal family sat: King Orestes, Queen Arabella, and their three children placed according to age. Vera took note that the two youngest, Orlaith and Catherine, were absent from their small thrones, but their eldest brother, Alastair, remained seated by his regal parents, looking awfully bored at the dancing crowd.

“You girls stick together, okay? I need to find a friend.” And with that, Selene strode through the crowd, picking her way between people and earning irritated glances.

“What should we do first?” Colette implored, staring in wonderment, her eyes never staying in one place for too long.

“Why don’t we just--”

“Don’t you dare say _‘sit and enjoy the music’_.” Colette had now managed to keep her focus on an overwhelmed Vera who held her hands up in defense.

“I didn’t.”

A tailored female servant passed by with a tray of champagne flutes and Vera plucked up two before the servant could ask for their ages. Either way, Colette was already nineteen and Vera’s birthday would be approaching soon to match.

“Oh, good idea, Ver. Maybe if you get enough alcohol in your system, you’ll loosen up.” Colette took long draws from the flute, leaving it half empty while Vera sipped gingerly at hers.

Vera wasn’t as much of a tight ass as Colette always claimed her to be. She had no problem with drinking, but only when it was somewhere she felt comfortable enough to relax. And this ball was Vera’s worst social nightmare.

From their vantage point, leaning against a wall, Vera enjoyed watching the people. They ranged in many heights, some with horns, others with wings of birds or insects, even the vast assortment of hair color was remarkable. And Colette would point to a passerby every few seconds that she deemed beautiful or a dress that she liked, swaying in the crowd.

After a few minutes of this continuous observing, Colette spoke up, “I noticed Orlaith wasn’t on her little throne--I wonder where she is.”

They looked around, half expecting the princess to sneer from behind, “Yeah, I noticed, too. Hopefully we don’t run into her.”

Colette laughed in doubt, “ _You’re_ the one she has problems with, not me. But,” she folded her arms, mimicking Vera, “if she picks a fight, I’ll punch the bitch for you.” A pixie girl who looked no older than them overheard Colette as she was passing by and casted an appalled look at them.

Vera met the pixie’s gaze and smiled wickedly.

“Stop that, don’t be mean.” Colette hit her in the arm, clicking her tongue in a chiding manner.

“ _Ow_ \--I wasn’t, she was the one staring.”

Looking up in exasperation, Colette sighed greatly, “I swear if you get us kicked out--”

“I won’t,” Vera laughed, but refused to promise such a thing. They listened as a melancholic song ended and an upbeat one took its place, beginning with a high pitched tune procured from the violins.

“Oh my gods, Vera, they’re playing the War Circle!” Colette was now shaking her friend, whose eyes widened in alarm at not having understood a single word Colette said, leading her to repeat herself. This time enunciating the syllables and watching as Vera gave a slight, disinterest nod of her head in return.

“And you’re telling me this, why…?”

Colette blinked slowly, before pursing her lips and muttering to Vera that she needed to get off her ass while dragging her unwilling friend to the marble dance floor, and clasping their hands together to avoid being separated. The War Circle began with a string of women forming a tight circle, while the men formed a larger circle around them, anticipating the start of the music that echoed throughout the ballroom.

The inner circle of women traveled to the right, crossing one leg over the other in almost a skip. Vera had nearly toppled over herself when the women began moving and the human girl to her right had yanked hard on her hand; luckily her tight grip on Colette’s hand saved her from doing so. The outer circle of men started the same type of movement as soon as the girls had begun, but they traveled to the left instead.

Vera’s heart was racing and despair filled her to the brim. She had forgotten how this dance worked and didn’t have a clue as to what she was doing, leading her to turn to the left, where Colette was grinning ear to ear, “ _What am I supposed to do?_ ” Her voice came out as urgent and Colette barely left her reverie as she responded.

“When the music stops, you turn around and find a partner to dance with!” She was practically shouting over the music, her focus on the other dancers rather than Vera.

“That’s it?”

Colette continued, “Any guy that doesn’t get a girl is out until there’s an equal number of both genders,” she paused briefly, “then you dance with different guys each time we stop. Your third partner is your last and you dance with him until the song ends.”

Vera didn’t understand the appeal of such a dance, but it was tradition; a tradition that she had never bothered to learn. Looking around at the circle of women and the exceptionally larger ring of men, her heart leapt to her throat. Now she remembered why, exactly, she never wanted to learn this dance.

Violins, cellos, trumpets, and instruments Vera didn’t recognize, all harmonized together to construct the upbeat song of the War Circle. If she wasn’t so terribly anxious, the song would have been enjoyable, but her hands were sweating excessively and she had to readjust her grip on Colette and the other girl’s hands as they moved round and round. Then the music came to a collective, sputtering halt. 

Vera turned to Colette but she was already gone, finding the arms of a bearded man less than three feet away. She felt a touch on her shoulder from behind and twisted to look at the significantly older gentleman who held out an awaiting hand, gloved in white satin. Vera took the man’s hand, not having any other choice than to walk off and draw attention to herself, and they positioned themselves as the orchestra resumed. He was smiling at her now, floating across the floor; two steps forward, one step back.

“What’s your name, darling?” His hot breath was laced with the scent of champagne, cloying her nostrils in an unpleasant manner.

“Vera,” she said, trying to sound cordial, but it came off as cold.

“Ah, shy, I take it, _Vera?_ ” The man was taller than her by about a head’s length with a bulging stomach and greying hair. 

“No, actually--” She halted her explanation when she felt his grip around her waist tighten, a muscle jumping in her pale jaw, “Sir, you’re squeezing a bit hard on my waist.” Her words were clipped, spoken with an undertone of wrath.

“Oh, my apologies, dear.” He smiled again and she wanted to rip his hands from her bodice.

Thankfully, the music ceased and a young boy with the horns of a growing buck decorated delicately with golden leaves approached her. His head came level to her nose as they danced together, the poor boy stepping on her shoes every once in a while before apologizing profusely. They spoke casually to pass time; he introduced himself as Enver and told Vera of his beetle collection. Enver was an exceptionally pleasant partner when compared to the man from before; she would rather suffer through the dull pain of her toes being stepped on every thirty seconds than feeling caged and uncomfortable in a strange man’s grasp.

The music stopped and Enver said his goodbyes, waving as he trotted over to a young nymph girl. Vera tore her attention from the boy and met the hazel eyes of a man who looked to be a few years older than her, beautifully rough, walking towards her in a composed manner. It was the tall man she had seen exiting the left room earlier, dressed in all black, now much taller up close than she expected. His stare seemed to verge somewhere between enticing and murderous as he sidled past revelers and Vera could see his lips moving quietly to those who he passed, likely offering his apologies as he made his way through the dancers.

She had the option to walk away, find a partner who appeared more inviting rather than menacing. It had never been taken off the table, but her body had gone rigid and--

And a head of chocolate brown hair lurched into view. Vera didn’t need to see the hideous crown she wore on her head tonight to know that Orlaith Vazenios had wedged herself between the young man and her before he could step within Vera’s vicinity. She also couldn’t decide whether to internally thank Orlaith or pettily remark on the fact that she had very nearly stepped on the short train of her gown.

She was unable to do either as another tall young man around the same age as her, likely a bit older, pulled her to the side.

“Hi, I’m Laurent,” he spoke with a genuine smile, placing his hand gently on Vera’s and clasping his other free hand into hers. Vera’s unoccupied hand dropped to his shoulder and the orchestra played.

“Vera,” she introduced herself, eyeing the boy curiously. He was much taller than her but shorter than the man who had originally been approaching. Laurent was also undeniably attractive with a head of dirty blonde waves, green eyes, and deeply tanned skin as if he lay in the sun constantly.

“I know,” he grinned again, a white flash of teeth and Vera took note of the slighter sharper canines, then looked to his ears. It seemed Laurent was a full Fae.

She raised an eyebrow, disbelief limning her tongue, “You do?” 

“Yeah, your friend Colette was telling me all about you when I was dancing with her earlier.”

“ _What?_ ”

Laurent twirled her, winking devilishly, “All good things, I promise.” He stopped her body once she faced him again, bringing Vera back to him, “She told me to come and save you--give you a reprieve from your last awful dance partners.”

Vera snorted, “That sounds like her. Thanks for…giving me a _reprieve_.” She ended the statement in more of a question than anything else.

“Of course.” 

Laurent and Vera continued discussing menial things--the champagne, the beauty of the palace, the recent weather--when the orchestra ended on a pitter of declining notes until the sound softened to silence. Laurent bowed before walking into the crowd, Vera curtsied as best she could in return and trudged off to find Colette, digging for her phone in a hidden side pocket on the dress and messaging her mother.

There wasn’t a response.

Her best friend had been well in conversation with a female dryad when Vera found her.

“Oh, there you are!” Colette exclaimed, tugging Vera to her side and introducing her to the dryad who waved shyly, Vera waved back politely.

“Collie, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah, sure,” she took a few steps away from the dryad who now engaged in small talk with a goblin, “what’s up?”

“I can’t find my mom, I’ve been calling and texting her while I was trying to find you but she hasn’t responded back.” Vera’s arms were folded across her chest, her phone in one hand, tucked underneath.

“Maybe she’s with that friend she said she went to find.”

“Well, _maybe_ , but what if something happened?” 

The party droned on around them and Colette watched as the King lifted a glass of champagne to his lips while his wife spoke with an expression of annoyance, “Okay, okay, fine, let’s go find her.”

Vera and Colette decided to check the ballroom first, edging around the corners of the immense-sized room, scanning the crowd for Selene’s ash-brown curls or any hint of the emerald gown she wore tonight. Colette had offered that they split up, one staying in the ballroom while the other surveyed the buffet area, but Vera quickly reminded her of the words her mother had said before leaving them alone.

And, besides, Vera despised the thought of having to go anywhere in this palace by herself.

As they passed clusters of partygoers, Colette would quickly nudge her way through and ask if they’d seen any women similar to the resemblance of Selene; describing what she looked like and using hand gesticulations that Vera didn’t quite understand from where she stood behind Colette, inspecting the guests around them. That had been the strategy they settled on: Colette asked the patrons while Vera kept an eye out in case her mother passed when they weren’t paying attention.

But the answer was the same, despite their variations; some shrugged, others shook their heads, and those who seemed the wealthiest always gave a lengthy ‘ _No_ ’ before apologizing in eloquent words. At this point, Vera had quit attempting to eavesdrop on the conversations Colette would spark with strangers and focused on her own task.

The ballroom took the longest, nearly thirty minutes, before they abandoned it and hastened to the buffet and drinks room. Though, it was just as unsuccessful there. When Colette began asking around, she was met with pinched faces and curt words rather than smiles and apologies. One older man even so much as threatened to call security for ‘ _disrupting the peace’_ . Vera had watched Colette back away, hands slightly raised, while asking for his pardons.

After another twenty minutes passed, they drew up empty. Selene wasn’t in the ballroom, she wasn’t in the buffet room, leaving…well, that could leave just the _entire_ castle to search as there was no telling what shadows she had managed to slink into or if they had barely missed her at every turn.

“Have you tried calling her again?” Colette asked, her slim fingers rubbing circles on her temples. The girls had survived the sneering guests of the buffet room and now stood in the empty hallway, the austere guards as their silent company.

“No, why didn’t I think of that-- _of course I tried calling her_ ,” Vera sighed and leaned against the wall, “Sorry…I’m just--”

“Stressed? Really, I had no idea at all.” Colette turned her body toward Vera, resting her head against the alabaster, “Ver, you need to calm down, your mom will show up soon enough. You know, we haven’t even checked the bathrooms yet, maybe she’s in there.”

Vera’s ring laden fingers tightened on the black screen of her phone, “Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” 

Colette used her body to nudge her towards the bathrooms, prattling about dull topics to distract her when a commotion churned behind them.

Vera was the first to look, then Colette.

“ _Mom_.” Her voice sounded choked to her ears as she bolted to her mother who was being held on either arm by two guards. Vera hardly processed the clicking of Colette’s heels behind her, melting with her own echoing steps.

She watched as her mother submissively allowed the guards to handle her, dragging her green dress on the marble, her curls masking the solemn face beneath that hung low. Vera saw the handcuffs clasped around her mother’s wrists, tightening into the skin. They weren’t metal, no, they looked…plastic. Matching black plastic shackles also bound her ankles, limiting her range of motion.

Confusion, pain, and shock suffocated her mind. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know what was going on. Her lungs burned. Her heels were too loud. Why were they so loud?

Two more guards flanked her mother, appearing from around the corner, but her view was quickly obstructed by the weeping angel fountain as the guards opened the doors to the biting cold that pushed in with a surge of frosted air.

“ _Stop, please!_ ” The hallway seemed to last forever. With every step she took, the marble floor felt as if it were lengthening, refusing to let her leave until she staggered past the fountain, nearly losing her footing trying to go around it, “ _Stop!_ ”

The guards finally heeded her pleas. All four of them paused, mid-step out of the doors, and turned to take in Vera and Colette. She could only imagine what the guards saw as they stumbled to a halt in front of them, gasping to catch their breath.

“That’s my _mom!_ ” Her hands were trembling now, “ _Stop, that’s my mom!_ ” The guards didn’t answer her fretful voice, instead, turning on their heels, they moved out of the doorway and walked with terrifying synchronization. Each guard wore the same uniform as the one who had entered her shop that day, now feeling as if it was years ago. The only proof they were certainly a being of some sort beneath the armor prevailed in their differing heights.

“ _No_.” Vera dug her blunt nails into the arm of one of the flanking guards, digging at the armor that refused to cave. The guard whirled towards her, hurling his arm in an attempt to throw her off balance, but she held on tightly. She didn’t think as she lunged towards the guard’s throat with the swiftness of an asp, lethal hands outreaching for the beings' life's blood with only a thin piece of fabric separating the guard from a surely grim injury while Colette’s desperate screams rang in her ears.

A blur of flesh and black fabric seared across her vision as her fingertips halted inches away from the guard’s carotid artery. Vera’s lips were pulled back, allowing her teeth to be seen as she panted heavily, nostrils flaring delicately. Her eyes burned into the guard’s faceless mask before they darted down to where a single hand had seized both of her wrists, clenching tightly and sending sharp pains down her arms. She watched as the guard in front of her adjusted his mask before returning to his flanking position around her mother, who was now halfway down the stairs outside with the three other guards in rank. Her chest heaved up and down, witnessing her mother disappear into the chilled night.

Vera’s head whirled to follow the hand up its black sleeved arm, and to the male it belonged to. The expression of his hazel eyes hadn’t changed since she’d met them on the ballroom floor.

“ _You_.” She seethed between her teeth and the deadly rage returned instantly, “ _Don’t fucking touch me--let me go!_ ” Vera pulled at her hands, wanting them back to control for her own, but his grip simply tightened; and she took the opportunity to spit directly into his face, writhing in his hold. The man appeared unfazed, watching for when Vera hiked her knee up to kick him between the legs as he simply moved backward and yanked her to his chest to keep her from attempting to head butt him as well. Vera landed hard against his chest, her breath knocked from her lungs with a sharp exhale, nose burning from sudden the collision.

Colette cried out in protest, but it never reached Vera’s ears as she tilted her chin up at the man who had taken out a compact cylindrical container during her hazed state and blew its powdery contents into her face. At first, she glared at him in confused shock, their eyes locking in an unspoken battle of who yielded first. Then her thoughts became muddled, heavy and thick like syrup. She felt her scowl loosen and her lips relax; her brow was no longer furrowed, her jaw rested gently. She enjoyed this feeling, she thought, of not having to contort her face in such a cruel manner.

Her focus crawled up the man’s chest, only reaching the middle of his black tie before giving up and allowing them to close. Sleep threatened to overtake her when a spear of clarity shot through her thoughts, it was brief but powerful enough to regain her mind and recollect herself.

She tipped her head back, as far as she could, and looked upon the man with heinous revulsion, “ _Go to hell_ …” Her last word was so quiet, so slurred, she’d be surprised if he had even understood. But Colette’s voice was the last thing she heard--angry and accusatory.

Nothing mattered now as Vera welcomed the veil of repose with open arms.

* * *

Copyright © 2021 by Demenscous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other Socials  
> Tumblr: demxnscous


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